Sunday 29th October Arzacq-Arraziguet to Arthez-De-Béarn
Daylight savings finished last night so we gained an extra hour - even so we wake at the same time. The body is programmed to be on auto cue and ready to begin its day's work .
Our great idea of finding a taxi doesn't work so well this morning as it's Sunday and they are not to be found. All is not lost though as our delightful host offers his services and will drive us to where we want to go - he is such a charming individual and so ready to please - G's ankle and knee is eternally grateful . We have learnt the French for these two words now Ankle- chenille Knee- genou and hurting is faire mal.

The other weird thing we noticed while walking in the woods was what looks like watch towers, umpire chairs for tennis and in some cases like very cute cubby houses for children. Finally we got to the bottom of the puzzle to realise that it's used by hunters as a lookout. Today being Sunday there were the usual shots being heard in the distance but we didn't actually site any hunters this time. We tended to be on more asphalt than normal which probably explains why the hunters weren't seen. We witnessed a family of deer running in a field and I felt worried for them that they might become a target for the hunters. All I could think of was Run deer run!!
This is our last Sunday on the chemin but I have to be honest I won't miss the distant sound of trail bikes tearing into the natural peace and being hurtful to the ears.

The architecture of the buildings has changed quite a lot. The walls are like stones stuck into concrete or the use of mud and daub between the wooden beams of the house. I am impressed by some of the old shutters I spot on different buildings- most are painted blue but there are different colours and then there is the lovely mossy roofs. One ceramic tiled roof was particularly clever by having a tiled cat incorporated in its design. I am not sure how they did it- maybe custom made tiles but the owners certainly had a cat on a hot (not tin) roof!
You might have picked up by now my frequent references to places of value to rest. Historic buildings, ancient monuments, and other things of note are important but what is more important to a tired weary walker looking for a place of rest is a good picnic table where you can sit comfortably - if there is a view or a water outlook even better. We came across the most perfect picnic spot today- even before I got to it I had remarked to George I felt as if we walking through someone's garden. And then we come across a little glade next to a babbling brook where there are hammocks hanging in the trees, an exquisite insect hotel, tables and chairs cut out of wood with decorations of bottles and carved stumps throughout the garden. The visitors book is kept inside a carved out wooden stump and I am delighted to be able to leave a message of appreciation in there. If you ever chance to pass by one day in your travels you must look back to the 29th October 2017 for my scribblings. As is sometimes the case unfortunately, the timing is not always right for a stop and that is the case for this oasis. We have only been on the road for an hour so we want to make the most of our early morning energy and not loose our momentum. I took photos to remind me of its idyllic state and if I was ever in the position of providing a public rest post I would base it on this one.
When it is time to have a rest we find firstly two planks of wood next to a hedge on the edge of one village and then the second stop it is inside a bus stop of another village- as you can see we take what we can. The last two towns are not high on my list as being gracious to pelerins as there is no wc's or pleasant picnic spots or fresh water. It takes only the simple things to make me happy.

We have passed through several towns yesterday and before that where there were references to Bastides. Today I look up the official definition- Wikipedia tells me that
" Bastides are fortified towns built in medieval Languedoc, Gascony and Aquitaine during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, although some authorities count Mont-de-Marsan and Montauban, which was founded in 1144, as the first bastides. The main feature of all bastides is a central, open place, or square. It was used for markets, but also used for political and social gatherings. "
Often all that is left of the fortified part is some stones but the local town council is very proud of the history and it is explained in great detail on the board as you walk into the place. The square is still evident in these towns and more often than not it seems to be a place to park cars.

We arrive at our destination called Arthez-De-Béarn and locate our gite, a large building that is built in the 18th century but no one responds to our calling out. G calls the phone number in the book and with a response of ' tout de suite' we wait and sure enough in no time a little car roars around the corner and out pops Madame- a vibrant French lady also with a firm hand shake. She explains the necessary things of where to sleep and where to put our bags and then off she flies. We are in control of the whole gite on our own and if we want to go out to explore it's just a matter of closing the door without a key. The approach of honesty is amazing in these small villages and I know this innocence will soon be lost as we approach busier centres.

We wander off into the town to investigate- being Sunday there is not much happening. A few people meeting in the bar and then what I can only describe as a garage sale with different tables for the different owners inside the town hall and some outside in the car park. It was a sad sight as here we actually could see some French people struggling as what they were trying to sell was things that we would see being put out in the road for council collection - the old plastic plant pots, old stuffed toys, shoes that were ready for the bin. The only things that could have been okay were the books and I looked at the early readers for children and thought that that would be the way for me to learn French, in the same way that is how we teach our kids how to read.
What made me sad was that these people had obviously put a lot of effort in getting to this location with bags of things and then unloading these goods onto a table and now they just sat forlornly behind the table, no one even looked expectantly at me as a potential buyer but apart from me there were hardly any customers. I wonder if they even made a sale for the day. The group doing the most business were the guys in the canteen section of the hall where they are making crepes and fries. For 2 euros we enjoy munching on a box of home made fries and make our way back to the gite.

We let ourselves in ( without a key) and play lady and lord until the arrival of Bertrand, a large man who wears his white coat around a rather rotund tummy and we take note of the large amount of flour covering his shoes, pants and even hair. This man is the boulangerie (and gite owner) and even on a Sunday afternoon was still involved in preparing for the week ahead. This is also the gite that Jenny the Australian had advised us that was truly worthwhile and a delight to stay at. Sleeping in this beautiful old home is going to be a dream. Large wooden beams are over our head. The old fireplace in the kitchen downstairs is almost the width of the room and you can imagine in the days of long ago how important it would have been to cook for all the members of the building.
PS it's now after 10.00 & we have just finished the evening meal which provided a lot of things to write about but I will leave that for tomorrow - Bon nuit